Observances & Rituals:
Thanksgiving: A Day for Sharing
By Dr. Rabbi Bernhard Rosenberg
Nov. 23, 2007
It is quite ironic that the more the world changes and evolves the more it tends to remain essentially the same. An ancient hieroglyphic expressed these sorrowful sentiments.
"The world is coming to an end;
everyone wants to write a book, and children no longer obey their parents;
the world is coming to an end."
This lamentation reveals itself in the 20th century and underscores the proverb that there is nothing new under the sun. We possess the same doubts and frustrations and are presented with similar pressures, and our reactions are identical with those encountered by our ancestors.
"That which we are, we are," an aging warrior in Tennysson's Ulysses sadly declares.
These words mirror the human condition as we contemplate life's confrontations on this, the eve of Thanksgiving.
Unfortunately, many have lost all hope; life's experiences have hardened their hearts. The sands of time have eroded human aspirations and idealism has bean replaced with pessimistic realism. These lonely souls have transformed life's joys and blessings into moments of anticipated terror and imagined fear.
Mencken's theory that "man is a sick fly, taking a dizzy ride on a gigantic flywheel" is reflected in their daily actions and decisions.
"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."
Blind frustration has corrupted our inner feelings; self--harassed individuals admit to G--d and themselves that they are created in the image of vultures, vent upon existing on their own sorrows and pains.
Perhaps the remedy for our uncontrolled cannibalistic anxieties lies in discovering our hidden selves. The self that needs to offer and receive love, the ego which is in desperate search for appreciation, the human soul which longs for tender expressions of concern -- "thank you, I care, I love you."
Loving is a precious gift which Father Time selfishly controls. Tears of sorrow, outcries of love for the departed, may be heard, may be felt, however we will never see the gleam in the beholder's eye.
If you are ever going to love someone, love then now! An unknown poet, made popular in a Tex Owens song (1946), knew well the meaning of a love unfulfilled in a work entitled Love Me Now:
"If you're ever going to love me, love me now, while I can know all the sweet and tender feelings from real affection flow./
Love me now, while I am living; do not wait till I am gone and then chisel it in marble -- warm love words on ice, cold stone./
If you've dear sweet thoughts about me, why not whisper them to me? Don't you know t'would make me happy and as glad, as glad could be?/
If you wait till I am sleeping, ne'er to waken here again, they'll be walls of earth between us and I couldn't hear you then./
If you knew someone was thirsting for a drop of water sweet, would you be so slow to bring it? Would you step with laggard feet?/
There are tender hearts all around us who are thirsting for our love; why withhold from them what nature makes them crave all else above?/
I won't need your kind caresses when the grass grows over my face; I won't crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place./
So, then, if you love me any, if it's but a little bit, let me know it now while living; I can own and treasure it."
Thanksgiving is a day for sharing, communicating love, giving thanks. Our undemonstrative, insensitive, macho--orientated society has forbidden us to tears of joy. Love, the ability to say, "I am grateful; I realize that you have sacrificed for me," seems to have become archaic.
Many of us take our parents for granted. We cry when it is too late; we should have embraced each other in joy. The expensive graduation gift, the exorbitant wedding reception, the hours of counsel and sleepless nights -- all these acts of love we soon learn to assume.
Few of us express our love for spouses. Their loyalty is unappreciated; seldom do we openly declare our gratitude.
Children shake their father's hand; hugging and kissing, these signs of affection are stifled. Emotions are paralyzed; a mother's caress is met with embarrassment.
What has of our Yiddish hearts? Mothers are preoccupied with professional excellence while babysitters coddle infants. Canned soup has replaced meals which were once prepared with tender loving care.
Tine is of essence; yet our precious hours are misdirected. Meetings, socials, tennis parties, card games -- these are the children of modem society. We avoid our families; communication is non--existent. Large--screen TVs, computers and cell phones have jealously occupied our homes; leaving little room for family discussions and the sharing of ideas. We hear, but we do not listen. Communication has become a vanishing art form.
Thanksgiving affords us the opportunity to formally express gratitude to loved ones. We can start anew. Giving thanks is quite easy; it simply requires awareness, sensitivity and empathy.
Dr. Rabbi Rosenberg, of Congregation Beth El in Edison, is the current president of the Metuchen--Edison Clergy Association.